Like Your Life Depends on It
by Memory in Crimson
Summary: Instead of kidnapping Nabu, Duman kidnaps Riven, of all people, in order to help him with his illness. But the cure might be more awkward for Riven than for the patient.


**Warnings:** Sexual situations with poorly-written humour thrown in. Strong language.

 **Dedicated to** all the poorly-written smut that ever there was.

* * *

"Like Your Life Depends On It"  
By Crimson Memory

Riven sneered at the whimpering wizard with the pink mohawk, who lay in the arms of the blond wizard. What a miserable sight! he thought. If the shoe were on the other foot—if he or any of his friends or the girls had fallen ill, those wizards would have taken advantage of them! But _noooo!_ The Winx Club and the Specialists just had to be bigger than that. They just had to show mercy to a pack of murderous, wing-ripping maniacs!

 _What a crock…_

"We'll take him to Gardenia."

Riven looked at Nabu.

 _What?_ he thought. Was Nabu out of his mind? Had he eaten the earthling chocolate pastries with the hallucinogenic plant again? (Boy, that had been an interesting Friday night…) They couldn't seriously divert the journey to Tir Nan Og for this… this… jerk-face.

" _Noooo_ way!" Riven protested, waving his arms dismissively. "No way, no way, nowayno—oof!"

Musa's elbow made contact with his gut. Riven rubbed his bruised belly and took two steps from her.

Damned women… Always thinking they could shove him around! And if not that, they were abandoning him, like his miserable mother, or cheating on him, like Musa had with the music executive (although the exec was strictly professional about their relationship… and he was betrothed and respected that betrothal! Although, come to think about it… he had looked at Riven kinda… fondly?).

Anyway… Back to Nabu prattling about knowing many spells, so on, so forth.

"Alright, then," said Bloom. "The Specialists will take Duman back to their flat."

"Our flat?" Riven bristled. "Hell no, hell no, hellnohell— _augh!_ "

He was pretty sure that Musa had just ruptured something important. He made a note to let Nabu look his aching body after the shifty shape-shifter.

"We'll accompany the rest of the Wizards to Tir Nan Og," continued Tecna.

Riven bit his tongue and crossed his arms (40% of out scorn for this asinine idea and 60% out of the need to protect his bruised ribs, just in case).

Once the rather asinine plan was agreed upon, Nabu opened a wormhole, leading directly to the Specialists' flat.

"Timmy and Riven will help me take care of Duman—"

What?

"—while the rest of you will gather the supplies I need."

"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Riven. "You want me to help take care of that? Why not Helia or Brandon?"

Nabu raised an eyebrow.

"Because they're going to get supplies?"

"Plus, I don't feel comfortable around Duman," Brandon whispered to Riven. "I think he copped a feel during one of our battles."

"So, you're making me carry him and tend to him?" questioned Riven. "Mr. Fruitier-Than-the-Frutti-Music-Bar?"

At that instance, the blond wizard, who sported the Freddie Krueger-looking hat, glared at Riven. Placing Duman in Anagan's care, he marched toward Riven.

Gantlos growled, "If anything else happens to our little brother, I'm holding your arse responsible. I'll send a shock-wave through your body that's so powerful, you'll be shittin' your guts, liver, lungs and heart."

Riven stiffened his spine and sneered. Like this oh-so-powerful wizard could shake him…

Then Gantlos smirked and reached for his chin.

"Or," he began, "I'll show you who the fruitiest of our merry band of men is."

Well, that got Riven to turn fifty shades of white! As little love as he had for women, Riven wasn't about to switch teams. He wouldn't be caught dead in bed with another dude!

… even if they smelled better because they didn't soak in perfume all day… or because they had better things to do than fawn over cutesy-wootsy, li'l fairy animals… or because they looked much hotter in skin-tight cloth—

"Hey! Duman! Ol' buddy, ol' pal!"

Riven opened his arms wide and helped Timmy escort the barely conscious wizard through the wormhole.

"We are gonna make sure you get right as rain," continued the magenta-haired Specialist. "Yup! Right as rain!"

The Specialists arrived safely home and laid poor, groaning Duman on the divan in the library. Timmy fetched a wet, cold cloth to dab on his forehead, but it did nothing to abate the fever.

"We'll be back in a little while," said Sky.

"Good luck, men," said Brandon as he patted Riven on the shoulder and followed their leader to the nearby druggist.

Great… thought Riven as he grabbed a chair, set it beside Duman, and crossed his arms and legs.

At least he wasn't alone with the freak. Honestly, he should have been with the Winx. Hell! Even if he couldn't go, even if he still needed to babysit this abomination, a few of the Specialists _should_ have accompanied the girls. Yeah, they were powerful fairies and all, but the Wizards of the Black Circle had dedicated their lives to hunting fairies. It was like leaving a flock of sheep to tend to wolves—wolves that were currently limping, but hungry wolves, nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Duman kept babbling in his sleep—something about a Black Circle, the Abyss, and… _bollocks_ to the fairies? What?

Unbeknownst to the Specialists, that was actually the fourth time Duman had gotten sick like that. Usually happened when he overdid the transformations during his efforts to shake off twats and tossers. His comrades had never known what to do aside from worry.

Ever since puberty, though, right before his shape-shifter family sold him off to some fairy slave-driver, he had always known exactly what would stabilise his energy.

It had just been a tad… how to say?… awkward asking his mates for help. Even Gantlos—Mr. I-Swing-Every-Which-Way—had been almost unapproachable (he was pretty rough and wild, though, while performing the 'labour of a man,' as his family called it).

Still, he was a better pick than these Specialist wankers.

 _'bout the only one worth rogering is that Riven bloke, he thought in between another spasm. He don't pour on the cologne like the other ones do, and 'e looks the best in that skin-tight cloth—_

 _"Ahh! Ahhhh!"_

What the hell was that bloody wanker with the pig tails doing? Inserting some weird, magickal ball in his chest, he was. He was supposed to cure him, not kill him!

"Duman's energy pattern doesn't seem to be configuring correctly," said Nabu.

 _Oh, thank you for stating the obvious!_ thought the shape-shifter as he transformed from a raven-rat to a wolf and then a snake. Honestly, the Rustic Fairies at least, for a few hours, had burned a sweet-smelling something in his room that induced pleasant hallucinations. The twit was probably going to make him worse.

In the middle of his swift transformations, the nerdy specialist and his handsome friend leaped upon him and tried to hold him down. He much would rather have had Riven holding his legs down and Timmy holding his arms, but at least he caught a glimpse of Riven's wild indigo eyes.

 _Yep… definitely… roger-worthy—_

 _"Ahhh! Heh… Help!"_ he gasped.

"I need you two to hold onto him for five minutes," commanded Nabu as he stepped out.

"Five minutes?!" Timmy shrieked, causing Duman to flinch.

 _Siktir! Kapa çeneni!_ thought the disgruntled wizard. _Tanrılar!_ His voice was so grating! If he could get his transformations under control, he'd bite this tosser's head off and spit it through the window.

Meanwhile, back in Riven's world…

"'Five minutes,' he says," he groused as Duman's head changed into a hawk's head. "How does he expect—"

—crocodile head—

"—us to keep this guy—"

—donkey head—

"—under control?"

"Aargh!"

Okay, Riven wasn't quite sure what the hell Duman just turned into but: 1) his entire body had morphed, 2) it was muscular and had sharp teeth, and 3) _he wasn't changing back._

" _Um…_ Nabu?" cried Timmy.

"What'd you call me?!"

"Wha—ah!"

Timmy collided with the library first, then Riven. Duman climbed onto the ceiling and snarled at them.

"Guys? What's all the commotion?"

As soon as Nabu stepped into the library, Duman landed and struck his back, shredding his robe and drawing blood.

"I think that improves your ensemble just a bit," he snarled. Then he turned toward the disoriented Specialists.

"I'll deal with you later, you little _piç_ ," he growled, pointing at Timmy. Then he marched toward Riven and seized him by the collar of his suit.

"So, you think I'm fruity?" he continued.

"Me?" Riven blinked like an innocent man. "Oh, no, no! I… uh… It was him!"

He pointed at Timmy, who cringed in a corner (bats were not his favourite animals…).

" _He's_ the one who's had the least flattering things to say about you. I really don't care if you're fruity or vegetabley or whatever!"

"Treacherous? And a liar?" Duman chuckled and scratched Riven's chin as though he were a dog.

"You _are_ going to be perfect, then," he said, and with that, he turned Riven round, grabbed his shoulders, and burst through one of the windows at full speed.

"Dragon damn it!" cursed Riven as he removed a piece of glass from his left cheek. "What the hell, dude?"

"It's Duman, not 'dude'," the wizard corrected.

"What the hell, Duman?" he groused. "Isn't it enough that you've gotten uglier? You gotta drag me down with you?"

"Says you, lad," he sneered as he soared above Gardenia. "You're the one about to lose his pretty, fairy girlfriend."

Okay, first of all, how the hell did _he_ know that he and Musa were going through a rough patch? Secondly, did he seriously just imply that the tension was caused by Riven's appearance? The only reason why his relationship with Musa was failing was the same reason why his mother had abandoned him: she was a woman.

Women always acted like victims in any and all relationships, whether girlfriends or mothers or that little girl with the ice cream that he shoved by the record company the other day. They were the ones tugging at male heart strings and severing them with gnarled sheers. They fooled men into feeling oh-so-special for such a brief amount of time before WHAMMO!

Buncha manipulative harpies… If he got through this alive, he was sworn off women for good!

 _If_ he got through this alive…

Oh, yeah… A demented, shape-shifting, pink-haired wizard had just kidnapped him, and he was pretty sure that the hilt of his energy sword had dropped to the city below about fifteen minutes ago… Well, crap baskets!

Eventually, Duman landed in Gardenia's largest park but not in one of the nicer sections. The landscapers seemed to have neglected this area and let nature grow wild. Dead branches clung to barely-living trees, which towered like gnarled, ancient morticians above tall grasses and bushes with ripe, poisonous berries.

It was a section of the park less travelled and obviously barely maintained, meaning that Riven and Duman were deadly alone.

 _you let me violate you  
you let me desecrate you  
you let me penetrate you  
you let me complicate you_

Duman released Riven close to the ground, but the Specialist still landed on his side with a deep thud. He cursed and groaned, rubbing his ribs that had been bruised by Musa earlier. Duman landed and grinned, fangs gleaming and gold eyes glistening in the shadowy landscape, which became more dismal as the sun began to set.

"You are going to help cure me," growled Duman.

 _help me i broke apart my insides  
help me i've got no soul to sell  
help me the only thing that works for me  
help me get away from myself_

"You want my help?" Riven lifted both of his eyebrows. "What about Nabu? He knows a hell of a lot more about this stuff than I do. I'm just a fighter! I'm no heal—"

Before he realised it, his back was against one of the gnarled trees. He felt his sweat drip from his brow down his cheek and beneath his chin as the demonic bat wizard eyed him hungrily.

"I can tell you don't fancy the ladies," said Duman, arms spread against the tree, preventing an easy exit for Riven. "Don't blame you, mate. Some're a bit of fun, but I prefer the lads, too."

Riven flushed.

"Wha… Whaddya mean?"

Duman chuckled. Gods, those teeth were terrifying! They were about the size of a rippled-back tiger. Then the thumb of his right wing touched the wound on Riven's cheek, eliciting a hiss.

 _i want to fuck you like an animal  
i want to feel you from the inside  
i want to fuck you like an animal  
my whole existence is flawed  
you get me closer to god_

"I… I… I'm not interested!" exclaimed Riven, batting away his wing. "I like _women_ , okay? I mean, just because I've hit a rough patch with my girlfriend doesn't mean that my sexuality suddenly vanished in to thin air and got replaced with… _cock-fancying_."

A legitimate point: he could still mistrust women while still feeling a sexual attraction to them.

"And even if that could happen, it doesn't mean that I would fancy every guy in the world."

Another legitimate point.

"And even if I did find men attractive, I'd rather be with your blond brother! You know, the one with the well-wrought hands, that lazy yet salacious stare, that rough, aggressive— _oh, my Dragon!_ "

Riven smacked himself in the face while Duman cackled.

Sweet Celestial Dragon! Riven really did fancy gentlemen, and the revelation had finally dawned on him only after some centuries-old shape-shifting bat demon of ambiguous gender had kidnapped him.

Not that fancying gents had anything to do with hating his mother or fighting with Musa… or just having a general distrust of the ladies in general. After all, he was pretty surly with just about everyone he encountered, regardless of gender (Helia and Nabu were right, he thought).

Nevertheless, his preference did explain a few things, such as when he ogled Brandon in the showers at Red Fountain.

Oh, Dragon, his suit was getting tight again!

"Okay! Okay…" Riven held out his hands as Duman stepped closer. "So I might… possibly have a thing for guys. But so what? Like I would hop on your cock?"

Duman kicked off his boots and dropped his skirt, under which he wore nothing. Riven glanced from one open eye before doing a double-take and dropping to his knees.

It was the mightiest engine that he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, a magnificent member that bellowed for awe. It was as though the gods themselves had shaped it.

"I take it you're impressed?" asked Duman with a gleaming grin.

"Lucky… fuck..." said the envious Specialist as he reached out for it.

"Hahaha! Speaking of—"

The moment in which Duman snapped his fingers, Riven's entire uniform vanished.

"Oh, hell!" Riven tucked his hands between his legs in the vain effort to cover his bawdy parts, earning another amused laugh. Then the wizard offered him an inhuman claw and asked:

"Need a hand?"

Riven hesitated. The Great Creator Dragon alone knew what else could befall him. Why, oh, why did he have to be the one that the villain had to fancy? Why not Brandon? (Hell, it happened so often to him, he was probably used to it.)

Nevertheless, he lifted a quivering hand out and was pulled to his feet, getting a face full of furry chest.

 _Huh! Pretty soft…_

Duman scooped him into his arms as though to bring him through a threshold. He set him atop a rock that was concave almost like a throne that awaited him (what are the odds? thought Riven). Then he knelt before him.

"Let's relieve some of that pressure," said the shape-shifter.

The Specialist cringed for a moment before slumping as he was rendered breathless.

As Duman released him, Riven gazed at him through watery eyes and asked, "Wha? What? That… that's all?"

Duman wiped away drool from the sides of his mouth, gazing salaciously at Riven.

"Not at all, love," he said. "I still need something from you."

He snapped his fingers, and a tall bottle manifested. He unscrewed the top, squeezed the large black bulb, and pulled out a pipette full of a clear viscous substance.

"This ought to make things smoother," he said as he squeezed the bulb again, releasing the cool lubricant.

Riven shuddered. The wizard was proving to be a more skilled lover than Musa (hell, Riven hadn't gone beyond a kiss and a hug).

"For a wing-stealing, fairy-killing maniac," he remarked, "you aren't too bad a lover."

"And you are more of a gentleman than you show," purred Duman.

Once he finished, he stood on all fours with his rump presented proudly.

Riven was swimming in a fog a pleasure too thick to immediately understand what Duman wanted.

"Would the gentleman care to finish off?"

"Eh?" Riven stared at him like a drugged man, the realisation finally smashing into his brain with the force of a speeding car.

Oh, Dragon! He wanted him to… to… But then he'd have to… But that couldn't be… Was he serious?

"You want me to..."

"You've got to finish if we want me to get all better," said Duman. Then he relaxed, turned, and said, "It's the only way, lad, or else I'll be stuck like this forever."

* * *

Riven made his final thrust and climaxed, slouching as a faint magenta glow peeked between his heavy lids. He glanced up and saw a more human-looking Duman curled beneath him.

Riven smiled and scratched that pink mohawk. The wizard looked over one shoulder and smiled.

"Told ya," he said.

"You did indeed," said Riven as and helped the trembling wizard sit.

"So… uhh… I guess this means that I'm… That is to say… Not that there's anything bad with it!"

Placing a finger on Riven's lips, Duman hushed him and then wrapped his arms around his neck.

"No one has to know, love."

Riven's face began to blush again.

"Yeah… About that… Do you call me 'love' just as your way of mocking me, or do you actually…"

"Fancy you?"

Riven gulped. "Yes."

Brushing his lips against Riven's, he replied, "Well, if I had my say, you'd be the newest candidate to the Black Circle."

"Oh!" Riven shouldn't have been so flattered. On the other hand… he would get to run with a group consisting entirely of powerful men, whom actually dressed quite dashingly (despite Stella's constant, grating complaints about their fashion sense), lived centuries without any signs of ageing, had powers to rival fairies, and (the biggest plus) no ladies to muddy the waters of their crystalline relationship.

It couldn't hurt that much if Riven asked if they were accepting applications.

* * *

 **Author Notes:**

 _Siktir! Kapa çeneni! Tanrılar!_ (Turkish) "Fuck! Shut up! Gods!" This stems from my headcanon that Duman has a Turkish background.

 _Um…_ (Turkish) Unfortunately, the English word that denotes pausing, "um," can get you into a lot of trouble in Turkey. It's the loveliest little word for a vulva. Nice…

 _Piç_ (Turkish) Bastard.

Lyrics provided by Nine Inch Nails off _The Downward Spiral_ ; because this song hasn't already been used to death by other fanfiction writers.

 **Disclaimer:** The writer of this fanfic, like, totes does not own _Winx Club_. Some dude who lives in Italy does. The writer also doesn't make money off this fanfic, the song, or anything other than their day-job. This story was written purely for the sadistic pleasure of scorching a few minds with good, ol'-fashioned nightmare fuel. You're welcome.


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